


Moonstruck

by Papillonae



Series: HWD Event: Her Kind (2018) [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Chance Meetings, F/F, Gothic, Lesbian Vampires, Love Bites, Love Letters, Moonlight, Seduction, Supernatural - Freeform, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: Vampire AU. The Countess Erzsébet receives a late-night visit from the beautiful refugee Natalya, but something about her new guest is strangely enticing.Written for the Hetalia Writers Discord Female Characters Event, Day 5: Supernatural.





	Moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to make a small note of thanks to Ivan (@gnostic-heretic) for suggesting the title and the pairing to me in a prompt ask - the rest I kinda just went with! :) I hope I do these ladies some justice in this Carmilla-inspired AU!

_“I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you."_ _How beautiful she looked in the moonlight! Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled. Her soft cheek was glowing against mine. "Darling, darling," she murmured, "I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."_

\- J. Sheridan Le Fanu, _Carmilla_

* * *

Moonlight poured in through the sheer, gauzy curtains, casting a pale blue light across the four-poster bed and the sleeping woman within. Only the gentle symphony of the night, with its cricket choir, the occasional croaking of a frog, and the gentle hooting of an owl could be heard for miles.

But still, something roused the Countess from sleep. She rolled herself toward the window, squinting past her sleepiness as she clambored her way out of bed. Her nightgown floated just above her ankles as she hastened to the window, somehow drawn to it as so late an hour. The moon hung full and white against a starless sky and she traced the light as it fell over the neatly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds. A winged creature – a butterfly, or a moth pershaps – fluttered restlessly among the lamp post.

Steadily among the night sounds was the gentle bubbling of the garden fountain directly below her. As her eyes moved toward it – a sudden flash of silver passing underneath her window caught her eye.

_An intruder?_

She quickly gathered her nightrobe and pulled it on over herself as she made for the stairs to the grand foyer, her long brown hair bounced and swished about her shoulders as she descended. Her heart was pounding maddeningly as her hand went to the door. _Who could be here so late in the evening? Another enemy of the estate?_ Swallowing any other fear or doubt, the Countess jostled the door handle and pushed herself outside, her bare feet making hushed sounds in the grass as she made a dash for the garden gate.

The woman she saw sitting at the fountain, her feet tracing the patches of crocuses underneath, was not who she’d expected.

What the Countess first noticed about the intruder was her gorgeous pale blonde hair, long and moon-soaked, falling delicately down past her upper back. A dark ribbon was tied atop her head, which kept her hair from falling too much over her face. She was dressed in a high-collared black gown with long sleeves and lace. The satin in her gown shimmered as she rose from her seat and turned toward the garden gate.

When met with the mystery woman’s gaze, the Countess felt herself unable to move, or speak, or look away... whether from fear or awe, she could not say.

The woman was positively glowing in the moonlight. As she approached the gate, she gave the Countess a curious glance before she spoke: “I am sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked. Her voice was soft, but even in tone. She spoke with a Slavic accent, one that delicately touched her words.

So entranced was the Countess by her, that her mouth went slack and her throat went dry. She came back to her senses and cleared her throat. “Oh – no, I was awake when I saw you outside my window, and I came down to see who was out here so late at night—”

“Is this your home?” she asked, interrupting the Countess’s thoughts. The woman was so close now, close enough to reach out and touch her hand through the bars of the gate, and the Countess could see how brilliantly dark this woman’s eyes were – brilliant, for they reflected the deep and infinite blue-violet of the night sky. For a moment, she forgot how to speak.

“Y-Yes, this is my estate. I am the Countess Erzsébet Héderváry. May I ask who you are?”

The woman blinked twice upon hearing the name. “Please forgive me my rudeness, your Illustrious Highness,” she uttered with the utmost politeness. With a slow grace she reached forward and unlocked the gate from the inside so that Erzsébet could enter. Once the two were facing each other plainly, the woman bowed into a low, reverant curtsey. “Call me Natalya, if it suits you.”

For most of the night, Erzsébet and Natalya sat at the garden fountain and spoke to each other. Erzsébet learned that her guest hailed from the northern Russian Empire – more specifically, the Belarusian Governorate. She had just recently escaped amidst the growing tension, and with talk of another uprising in the works, Natalya had escaped only barely, in the back of a traveling merchant’s carriage.

Erzsébet complimented her on her quick resourcefulness and on the vast knowledge she carried of her home. She made it a point to mention how she would be interested in one day taking the journey up to see it.

“To see my home again would be like a dream,” Natalya lamented, her eyes gazing upward at the moon, “but until the revolution comes, I fear I must remain on the road.”

As an act of comfort, Erzsébet reached out her hand and placed it atop Natalya’s. The look of concern on her face only grew when she felt how frozen they were.

“Natalya, your hands are like ice,” she said, now taking Natalya’s hand in both of hers in an attempt to warm her. Cupping her hands over her lips, she breathed warmth onto them.

Natalya’s intense stare turned from the moon to her face. “I am used to the chill.”

But Erzsébet stood, and helped Natalya from her seat on the fountain. She guided her out of her garden and toward the door of her estate. “If you have nowhere else to go on this night, please let me invite you in to warm yourself by the fire.”

“If it is by your invitation, then I am honored to be your guest.” 

Erzsébet did not notice how quick Natalya was to smile as she lead her through the threshold of her home.

* * *

 

“You are such a good host,” Natalya remarked as Erzsébet made up the fire.

Erzsébet lent her one of her nightgowns to wear, over which she wore a modest shawl. She insisted that if Natalya was still travelling and needed a place to stay, she would be made welcome at her estate. Over a shared pot of tea, Natalya had once again mentioned how grateful she was for the Countess’s compassion, and once again Erzsébet explained that it was a duty of hers to help someone – especially a delicate refugee – in need.

It was only in the dimness of the parlor that Erzsébet could see just how long and pale Natalya’s slender legs were as she sat elegantly on the other side of the chaise: the color of cream in the flickering of the firelight. Her eyes traveled up and traced her shape in the warm light, until she found herself eye to eye with her.

She hadn’t noticed how close Natalya drew to her, nor how just one look into those midnight eyes left her paralyzed.

“A gracious host as yourself would make a wonderful wife. Surely a noble countess such as yourself has a suitor in mind,” Natalya murmured, voice almost a whisper as she gently took a lock of Erzsébet’s hair and twined it around her fingers.

Erzsébet swallowed. “There is… one man. But I have not met him yet, nor do I know where his affections lie.”

“Cold men,” Natalya mused, delicately laying her hair back over her breast, “I know of cold men. And of the cruel games they play with the hearts of maidens.”

“Then am I to assume that you have been in love before, Natalya?”

Natalya smiled demurely. Erzsébet hadn’t noticed how she had been pressed to the edge of the chaise, until she noticed her beautiful guest’s arms on either side of her – noticed their bodies so dangerously close to pressing against each other. She could feel her face aflame, and an electric thrill through her stomach.

“The loves of men are lost to me,” she sighed, leaning closer to Erzsébet’s ear. Her breath was cool against her neck and earlobe, and the sensation left her trembling and suddenly breathless. Every word in her ear was like honey – sweet and concise – and Erzsébet was helpless against this sudden hold Natalya had over her.

And Natalya continued her advance – her pale knee separating Erzsébet’s legs, poised just _so_ close – with words that lanced through her heart: “The loves of women, however… those I know well. Just as I am sure you do, _Countess_.”

Erzsébet found herself, and reflexively pushed Natalya off her person. The words left her trembling, but it was the smell on her lips that made her afraid... but did she imagine it? The stench of blood?

“What do you presume to know about me?” she asked, her voice wavering, “I... I am not who you say I am! And … who are you, who presumes to know so much?”

Natalya was still absolutely frigid to the touch, even after having been seated by the fire. When Erzsébet pushed her away, the shawl around Natalya’s upper body came undone and fell in a heap on the floor. In the firelight, Erzsébet realized in horror just why Natalya had worn such a high collar dress, and why she had insisted on wearing the shawl in such a way.

For on the side of her neck, there was a scar – two vertical puncture wounds.

But Natalya was not phased. Her gaze never left Erzsébet’s, though now she wore a very serious expression. Erzsébet could feel herself trembling, her heart hammered in her throat as Natalya reached down to tilt her chin up with her cold, clammy fingers.

“I am someone who was come to love you, my dearest Countess.” Her smile was small, hardly noticeable. It betrayed the trace of a sighing and sobbing in her voice. “It must be fate that the light of the moon should bring us both together on this night. And though I have loved no one before, there is something about you that warms me…”

There was such a strong sincerity in her eyes that Erzsébet could feel herself being crushed by it. Her hand hovered, hesitating, at the side of her hauntingly beautiful face. “Natalya… I know nothing of you. I want to know more, but…”

“Are you afraid?” Natalya asked. It was as if she read her mind.

Erzsébet hesitantly nodded. Natalya took her hovering hand and guided it to her cheek. She was still cold... although now there was a trace of warmth just barely under her skin.

“Do not be afraid.” Natalya whispered, as she leaned down and gently brushed her lips against Erzsébet’s.

Surprisingly, those lips were very warm to the touch. Erzsébet’s eyes fluttered close as she concentrated on the feeling. Her hand tucked Natalya’s long silvery hair behind her ear before slipping behind her head. The way her neck was craned up just slightly on the arm of the chaise left her trembling as Natalya’s kisses wandered south.

She sighed as Natalya began to nibble gently at her neck, then at her earlobe.

“Would it be bold to ask you to be mine, sweet Erzsébet?” she whispered with labored, exilhirated breaths. The chill of her breath sent a shudder through Erzsébet, and she moaned when Natalya’s hand began to skirt up along the inside of her thigh – a shock of cold, which left her arching her thoat eagerly into her lips.

“Do you truly love me?” Erzsébet asked her, moaning softly each time Natalya sucked at her neck.

“I do,” she replied breathlessly, “My love for you is so great… if you wanted me to stop here, I would. Just say the word.”

Natalya had begun feathering kisses at her collarbone when her slender fingers began to hike up her nightgown. She pressed her knee into Erzsébet’s groin, and Erzsébet, helpless and almost mad with arousal, began to slowly rock against her. Her mouth hung open, with only Natalya’s name on her lips. “Please…” she begged.

“Please what?” Natalya asked, her voice just as heated as she looked down at Erzsébet’s face, flushed with ecstacy in the flickering firelight. She hesitated in all her actions as she stared - lingering on Erzsébet’s response.

“Please… come with me to my chambers.”

Natalya blinked, surprised. “Are you sure?”

Erzsébet reached up and kissed her more fervently this time, heedless of the metallic taste on Natalya’s tongue as she brushed against it with hers. “It is my own will that invites you there,” she said, her heated breath mingling with the frost of her lover’s.

“Natalya. I want you. Please let me keep you warm until the morning.”

This time, it was Natalya who could not resist the fire in Erzsébet’s eyes.

* * *

When morning came, the Countess Erzsébet awoke alone, her nightgown disheveled and her hair a mess.

She rolled over in the bed, sat up, and saw herself in the vanity. As she combed through her hair with her fingers, she noticed several tell-tale bruises and markings from the night before on her person – including a peculiar set of puncture wounds just above her left breast. She touched it. It was still tender, and the wounds were only somewhat deep. But the reminder was enough.

At the bedside was a small letter, folded and addressed to her. Erzsébet reached over and unfolded it. Inside was a brief poem: 

 

 _Erz_ _sébet, my dearest heart,_

_I shall come again to see you soon,_

_For we will not be long apart:_

_’Till tomorrow night, beneath the moon._

 

Though the thought of her – of what she was – still made her heart pound with fear, the warmth in which Erzsébet remembered her declaration of love left her heart trembling, eagerly awaiting their next moonlit rendezvous. 

_Tomorrow night._

She would be waiting.


End file.
